


Driftwood/浮木

by xuelingxu



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xuelingxu/pseuds/xuelingxu
Summary: They had all sunk in the dark sea, thinking they could never see the shine again. But they met their own driftwood.
Relationships: Avallac'h | Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha/Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Driftwood

**Author's Note:**

> My first language is not English, so please forgive any grammatical errors.  
> Special thanks to Dear Ratzinger for helping me fix lots of grammatical errors and misuse of words. Thank you so much, my friend!❤❤❤❤❤❤

Recommended BGM——Crusade by pentatonic

I've seen the worse place,but no more.

nobody said it was easy to heal the sorrow.

I've seen the end of world.

nobody said it was easy to be recoverable.

Today was Belleteyn.

Avallac'h watched the lively banquet indifferently. The guests were exchanging compliments from time to time and he just sat quietly in his seat, looking a little out of place. The bonfire seated on the high platform in the centre of the palace was burning hard. The sacred torches on the surrounding pillars had been taken down on Saovine last year and a new fire was had been lit today with the purpose of praying for the health of the elven race.

He raised his glass at the sight of familiar faces that greeted him, but didn't bother to respond to hints, such as ‘Is it not too much of a waste for you to be a scholar?’; ‘The young king seems to be missing a royal advisor’; ‘The situation is still not stable enough’. He wasn't exactly tired of politics either, but he felt complicated emotions when he looked at the ubiquitous short slaves at Tir ná Lia. Slaves whose round ears were hidden in their hair always stirred a shallow ripple inside him.

"Lord Sage, would you mind trying this?"

The silver bowl in front of him was filled with rose custard, which once had been one of his favourite desserts.

He looked at the she-elf beside him. Her eyes were large and green, her long ashen hair was held up high in an emerald bun, and her thin silk skirt outlined the delicate curves of her body. It was just so intended. He turned his head to Ge'els who was busy clinking glasses and now immediately raised his glass to him, smiling after noticing his gaze. The Regent had promised to pass on a file that was closely tied to his current research at the end of the banquet. Thus, he still had to stay until the end.

“I would also recommend this dessert,” the she-elf seemed tireless.

He looked at the table in silence, not wanting to pay any attention to her. But the she-elf was looking for something to talk about regardless and she was very annoying. Maybe she had become a little tired of telling jokes that he didn't respond to and he finally got a moment of peace during the last stage of the banquet. Thus, he heard a light complaint from her: ‘...said that he liked the she-elves to be lively’.

The banquet ended and when Avallac'h hurriedly flipped through the file, he sighed helplessly. Anyway, at least he won't have to participate in such courtly banquets anymore. He'll have to find another place to live in seclusion. Best places, experimental equipment, lots of books, he couldn't get used to other beds...and he left the place while thinking thusly.

He looked back at the palace: white marble, mosaic tiles, fountains, statues.

His Tir ná Lia.

Returning home, the naked figure in his bed only strengthened his decision to leave. He lamented in his heart that Ge'els’s ability to understand his mind had regressed considerably when he had become Regent. It seemed that his disregard toward the she-elf at the banquet had not made the de facto supreme ruler understand that it was appropriate to stop.

He did intend to leave, and the thought had been hovering in his mind for some time. He knew he had eyes and ears on all sides, and his former cronies had visited him three times, overtly and covertly encouraging him to go back again. Ge'els had even promised him untold sums of money, lofty status, and similar-looking bedfellows. But he was always indifferent.

In the great Tir ná Lia, rumors were rife. Everyone said that the elven sage Avallac'h was reminded of his former lover, Princess Lara. When he helped the descendant of the Elder Blood, the more he witnessed the dh'oine who was alike Princess Lara, the more he fell into the mire of grief. Now, he was like the late King Auberon, who had no intention of politics, but was only absorbed in his own grief.

Was he grieving? Yes, since that day, he never seemed to be happy again.

There were hands that caressed his face. Soft, clean, and fair, her hands were never like that. The memories of her seemed to have always been gray: her clothes were always covered with splattered mud marks; her face was always streaming with sweat and blood; her hands always had calluses from swinging her sword. But when she clasped his hand, he always felt an inexplicable surge of support.

"I'm not like any of them. You know that, Lord Sage."

The jade body in the moonlight was as perfect as a sculpture in the palace. Her body was never the same either; she had so many scars, fourteen in all, large and small. She also didn't have skin as delicate as cream; she was always red from the sun. But when he touched her, that young, vibrant flesh made his insides scream with excitement!

"No one understands, but Lord Ge'els does. What has kept you disturbed for a long time is not the princess anymore, but the one who used to be here ......"

She didn't finish as his eyes grew colder and colder, like a thousand piercing blades suddenly stabbing into her chest.

He turned to leave, but the she-elf grabbed him from behind.

"I couldn't leave without completing my mission. Lord Ge'els says I have all you like, and if you must have a scar on my face, I may as well..."

She was suddenly thrown out. Though he still turned his back on her silently, she perceived that he was full of anger, more appalling than Lord Ge'els who was a smiling tiger, and she thought it sensible to leave.

He threw the file casually on the desk and sat down in the darkness in a specially made ebony chair. The light sources in the house all but extinguished with a wave of his hand.

It was Belleteyn and he missed her.

He remembered his last day in the the world of the Aen Seidhe. He stood far away, watching her as she waved the "Zireael" sword that Geralt had given her as a present in the White Orchard. Her parents were praising her, the noisy dh'oine who was like a parrot was fiddling with the elven lute, and the dwarf was drinking and clapping.

That's it.

He took one last look at her, then walked straight into the portal. He had predicted their future: this was the best they could end up with. They just need to keep a simple mentor-student relationship in the end and all was dusted off.

They had gone to his lab and he knew exactly what they had found there. He had thrown some excuses in pretending calm. He even claimed to protect all the descendants of Lara's bloodline. But _she_ had been the only one he actually had protected until today. They stood in the tower and she had asked him to bring about the Conjunction of the Spheres and open the damned portal to that world. Her sadness, her anger, her shame of him all on display, but he didn't want to explain himself. Let her hate him, it was better that way.

She deserved a better life, a better... mate. After what he had once forced her to do - something she hadn’t wished to do - he was completely disqualified. She would soon forget about him. After all, he had hurt her too. All those nightmares of hers should have been discarded.

He had given vent to his desires once in a while when he had just returned to Tir ná Lia. But he gradually found himself unable to do so and even remembered her while he was having sex with others.

He had always been calm, sensible, and restrained, but then he had met Lara.

Lara, whom he loved with all his heart, had left him – just for a foolish dh’oine.

He had sunk into endless pain and had begun to desperately search for any vector that would allow him to retain his memories of Lara. He had thought he had found so many features of Lara in her that he had been confused by those. But now, his Lara was just a vague phantom. The Lara he was trying to paint was all her and her voice calling him Avallac'h kept ringing in his head, drowning out the sound of Lara's Crevan.

She ended up robbing him of the memory of Lara in his mind.

He still remembered that night in the highly civilized world. He had come home from field research, thinking she had gone to sleep because it was midnight. So he was a little surprised to see the only lit window in the entire building from the distance. There was an inexplicable warmth in his heart - someone was waiting for him.

He had been alone in the dark for too long and he had grown accustomed to the rightful indifference of those around him, himself among them. But she had said she thought of him as of a _friend_ and that for his sake she would also stop the White Frost. She had always trusted him without reservations.

He had sat in front of the couch that day and watched her for a long time as she curled up and slept there. The dinner that had gone cold on the table looked like it was overcooked. There was a bouquet of flowers in the vase on the tea table, presumably bought in passing when she had returned from her part-time job. That she seemed to have tidied up the house was very rare, though there was still too much that needed to be cleaned again in his eyes. Still, it kind of added a touch of life to things and made it a place where he could rest for a while.

She seemed to be having another nightmare. Her body was shaking violently. He sat down beside her. His left hand wrapped tightly around her clenched fist. Two fingers of his right hand touched her forehead to cast a spell, then he gently stroked her hair. Her breathing slowly calmed, and he carried her back to her room.

She slept soundly through the night.

But he stayed awake all night. He realized that the feelings he had always been deliberately ignoring had grown unconsciously to the point where he couldn't control it either. Should he add a few more shackles to this feelings? But deep down he screamed for her accompany.

He eventually lost this accompany and remained alone, like a drowning man who lost his driftwood and sank permanently into the dark sea. He had gotten it and then voluntarily gave it up, presumably as a punishment for his persecution of her.

He got up and went to get the glass on the table, and inadvertently came across something. It turned out to be a magic lamp which he had spent nearly ten years just to communicate with Lara's ghost. This magic lamp was back in his hands after a few years. A short while ago he had taken it to the place where he had last seen Lara. He had intended to bury it in the land, but the green soul actually turn around and look at him calmly. They looked at each other, and for a moment he didn't know what to say. Lara's face was peaceful, not as determined as when she had left.

**_**\--let it go. Cherish the present.** _ **

She left that sentence and completely transformed into several green dots of light that was floating into the air, like a firefly by a summer pond. On the 5109th day, the magic lamp finally accomplished its mission. It was brought back by him to rest quietly on the desk as a souvenir.

A sudden current slid through his brain, was she going there this late in the night?

Yes, he had always been able to sense the time fluctuations in her time travel. With the passage of time, the length of the fluctuations had surprisingly ceased to be a key element - he could sense them as long as she used her powers. He just didn't want to admit it was because his thoughts of her were gradually becoming obsessions.

After that Conjunction of the Spheres he had initiated, Tir ná Lia's time dimension was magically in high alignment with the Aen Seidhe world, meaning they were living the same day, only in different worlds.

He was beginning to get worried. She had enjoyed going there so much in recent years. But a breeze at the top of the hill in the spring would give her a cold, and it was likely that she would been drunk and more likely to sleep there all night.

It was Belleteyn, after all.

He quickly found the well-preserved hooded cloak, and the sapphires on the brooch still exquisite. he hesitated for a moment and drape it over his body.

He stepped into the portal.

Yngvar's Fang.

Ciri sat down against a rock. She had just left a revelry. Wine, punching, singing, dancing, bonfires, fireworks and sex were the eternal theme of the Belleteyn. She had wanted to ‘talk with’ a man who seemed quite honest, only to have the man make a polite speech and then flee, presumably the long scar on her face as the fireworks bloomed startled him. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. She really lived up to the resemblance with Geralt. Even that situation was so similar.

She shivered as the cold wind blew. It was the top of the mountain, and it was still too cold in the middle of the night. But she inexplicably liked the feeling.

The Path of Warriors, recognized by the honorable people of the Skellige, was too simple compared to Kaer Morhen's murderous path. She had easily challenged successfully, though she had used her power to get here today. She loved the place, especially when she was unhappy. After she sort out her emotions, she could just glide down the path next to the stone, excited by the speed of the wind.

She hugged herself tightly and rested her head on her knees. The darkness before her made it difficult to imagine the snow-covered mountains and the gorgeous scene of the rising sun.

Cold, silence, snow - she always thought of him at times like this.

She once thought about how to face him after she stop the White Frost. Beat him up, pulled his braids, tied him up or came to gwent. But his unannounced goodbye had crushed all this. It was like a pot of cold water poured from the head to the end, poured out the feelings that she was so hard to admit.

Her parents said it's the best ending. Geralt even appreciated his leave, hoping to never be associated with him again in her life. She reluctantly pulled an ugly smile that's worse than crying and nodded in approval. But at night in her mother's arms, she let herself be in tears only cause her mother said, "Forget it, it's not worth it." She knew where he was, and she could go to him anytime, anywhere. But she just wouldn't! She held back a breath inside and fought with herself.

Therefore she decided to leave him behind and started dating different people: simple and upright, silent, knowledgeable, gentle and considerate, brave and romantic... She skilfully flirted with them and enjoyed their praise, but was forever missing the fluttering of her heart. Especially when she woke up in the middle of the night, she couldn't stand having a "stranger" around her. She couldn't open her heart to them. Geralt had said that he would definitely ask her for something in return in the future, and Ciri felt no need to wait for later. Now the 'return' was already a bit heavy. How many years it would take her to kick him out of her heart completely?!

There were only two or three torches illuminating the top of the mountain, making the lining constellations in the dark sky even brighter.

She suddenly thought of the dream she had had the other day in which she had been humiliated by the she-elf, and her look had upset her greatly! Was she nearly crying? Why was she so helpless? She should have gone up there and punched that elf girl! Then she also clearly saw that the she-elf's originally pretty face was rather ugly twisted by the jealous, irritated expressions. She was jealous,something that couldn't have been more obvious, why didn't she see it at the time?

She had had several similar dreams, and she always looked down from the air, as if a bystander on the sidelines.

She remembered a dream that they were sitting together on a boulder at dusk. She was fixing her hair. The setting sun was pulling their shadows extra long. He seemed to twist his head and say something to her, with the shadow of them snuggled up to each other like lovers whispering intimately. If they were closer, maybe their lips would meet. The wind was blowing, and she crouched down to pick up the hairband that had been blown to the floor. Her long ashen hair was fluttering in the wind, and behind her he couldn't resist reaching out to touch it, almost succeeded to touch it, but he retracted his hand. They had kept a self-righteous safe distance that turned out to be so ridiculous to the onlookers. When she woke up, she felt a little disappointed. She thought the scene in this dream was beautiful, and it was a pity she never dreamed of it again.

She still had nightmares all the time, sometimes even need to numb herself with alcohol. Her little first half of life were too bumpy for either who she loved or who she hated to eventually leave her, because she was the death itself.

No one could save her as she struggled in the distress; No one could enlighten her as she sank deep in self-loathing. She felt like she was the one abandoned by the rescue ship in a shipwreck, floating alone on the surface watching her fall alone. She was afraid. She had to have a light source to sleep at night; she couldn't trust anyone; her sharp sword never left her body; she killed anyone calmly. She had thought she was going to keep falling in the abyss until she met her driftwood.

She knew he was only interested in her own abilities, but she couldn't help clinging to him. He was powerful, knowledgeable and omnipotent. She had never felt more safe by his side. The feelings grew so naturally, she was afraid of being found out by him yet longed for him to know. Telling herself countless times to give up quickly but just can't let go. Feelings couldn't be hidden, and the more they were suppressed, the stronger they erupted. One day they would break through that line of defense.

It's Belleteyn, just like that day.

Bang! A firework rose like a comet's tail at breakneck speed, painting into the black night sky in brilliant colors, brief and beautiful.

Another thud, but this time accompanied by a green flash. Avallac'h frowned faintly at Ciri who held the bottle in her left hand and a large plate full of roasted foods in her right.

"It's not like I stole this! It was taken squarely," she tossed the items in her hand towards the ground. "It's a party, all the people here can eat and drink as they please, we're just a little further away from the centre of the party."

The long life of fleeing had worn them both out. When they had stepped into this world through the portal and had been ready to be put to the fight but had only heard laughter, they had finally allowed themselves to relax for a moment. Regardless, they still maintained a distance from the celebrating locals.

"Today is Belleteyn." Huge bonfires, dancing crowds, the smell of spring, tangled branches with flowers and vines were everywhere on display.

"Is that so," Ciri pried the cap off with her canine teeth and handed the bottle to her mentor, "That just so happens to be a great day for both you and me to celebrate! Come on! Cheers!"

Ciri raised her head and took several sips of herself. She let out a big sigh of relief and sat down next to her mentor, beginning to enjoy the meal. Her fussy mentor just ignored the somewhat charred food in front of him and reluctantly took a few sips of the wine under Ciri's urging.

Bang! Another shower of fireworks exploded in the air and scattered like a meteor shower.

Wherever they were on Belleteyn, the fireworks were always present, no matter what form they took..

They just sat there in silence, waiting for the plates to be empty and the bottles of wine to see the bottom, the fireworks didn't finish and even had a tendency to intensify. But strangely enough, she didn't smell a strong smell of gunpowder, instead she was surrounded by a familiar clean and elegant, bitter scent. She inhaled hard and found that it was originally from her mentor. It's been a long time since he's used lonicera and sandalwood perfume. After all, there were no need to focus on the irrelevant things in a life or death escape.

It was a nice perfume. She moved closer to him, sniffing him like a lion chasing its prey. She knew the act may have seemed a bit weird at the moment, but who cared: he was the one who wanted something from her and he deserved to satisfy her with all that she wanted. Geralt was particularly enamoured with the lilac and gooseberry scent of Yennefer, which she suddenly understood somewhat.

She moved closer to him again and the tip of her nose almost bumped against his cheek. She took a hard sniff, laughing happily: "You smell so good!"

"You're drunk." He looked calmly at the slightly intoxicated woman.

She saw his aquamarine eyes as mysteriously deep as his own character. They were nor as clear and melancholy as Auberon's, either as ambitious as Eredin's. They were like the quiet blue waters of a lake that attracted her hopelessly.

Bang! Another burst of fireworks came.

They just looked at each other quietly. The air was filled with the smell of alcohol and lust. It could be that the faces under the fireworks were more moving than usual, it could be that the perfume of lonicera and sandalwood was too refreshing, or it could be that different groans began to come from nearby - any celebration would eventually turn into another essential orgy. The atmosphere was a bit ambiguous.

She kissed his lips slowly, tentatively and gently, not daring to probe in just to stop at the surface of his lip. She could almost hear her own heartbeat while her hands squeezed his robe.

She ended the unanswered kiss and opened her eyes only to see him with a heavy face. He tightened his lips like he was tolerating something. She mocked herself and lowered her head, ready to retreat to her original position.

But she couldn’t move.

He only hocked up her chin with just one finger and then greedily took every inch of her breath. The kiss was so fierce, awakening the monster that had been sealed in each other's hearts for too long. The monster was killing all sides. But it's not enough, far from it, wanting more, wanting to make the other person completely their own.  
Thus, the clothes were scattered around the body.

He quickly soothed the fear that had accompanied her previous bad sexual experiences, and she was pampered by his tenderness. She found that sex should be orginally wonderful and pleasurable. They were feeling the temperatures of their bodies , exploring the deepest secrets and unleashing the most primal desires. Every kiss, every caress, every strike with love was an infinite amount of feelings for her. Clasped fingers , whispers in ears, and strong love made them feel more sweet than ever.

Bang! The largest fireworks exploded in the air, illuminating almost the entire forest in a flash.

They were not the elven sage and the lady of space and time who were on the flee together. They were just one of the countless intertwined figures reveling in this forest. On Belleteyn, they can temporarily drop all their baggage and indulge for such a time as this.

The next day, they tacitly avoided talking about last night's 'accident'. They chalked it up to an alcoholic rush, an ambiguous atmosphere that led to a catharsis of physiological needs that needed to be met, but locked their feelings in the inner room of their deep hearts. They pretended the whispers in their ears last night were a secret, and even added a heavy brass lock to the door of the inner room of their hearts. If someone approached the door with the key, they were urgently ready to add a number of temporary security measures.

But how can a small inner room of heart hold such unreasonable feelings? When it broke out on its own one day, the whole heart was filled and there was nowhere to run.

She might have heard "Bang!" again. She could not stay here any longer, her brain had begun to empty after drinking, and even produced hallucinations.

What, she seemed to see a familiar slim figure. It was too dark in here, and she staggered up.

Hair? Well, the braids were still there. The flesh on his cheeks seemed to be even less. The collagen so badly lost that she could barely remember what he looked like back in Tir ná Lia. His blond-haired, aquamarine-eyed youthful appearance gone with the lifting of the curse. Her hand moved down his chest, still without a couple of flesh on his body, and easily circled his waist, so thin! Her face rubbed against a cold pendant which turned out to be a navy blue gemstone brooch. She rubbed it over and over with her fingertips.

"Hey! It's quite real!" Perhaps it was a drunken hallucination or she was already dreaming. But the touch was too real, the clean and elegant scent of bitterness was too familiar, the body was just right to block the wind. It all made her unbelievably relief. She touched everywhere and kneaded with satisfaction, delighted.

Avallac’h quickly calmed down from his shock. She smelled of wine, a bright smile spread across her face under the light of the ball he just put to the sky. Her shoulder-length hair waved in the wind. She was a free swallow. Those fights with different monsters as a female witcher had made her even more slender. Her exposed small abdomen was muscular. She was tanned and her chin seemed to be pointier too. The scars seemed to have hyperplasia and it looked like she really hadn't applied the ointment he had specifically left behind. Seeing himself reflected in her large green eyes, he had the urge to embrace her, but soon the urge shifted. Her hand was unceremoniously getting lower and lower, sliding through the silky material to his thigh.

"Zireael......" His words were blocked by her oncoming lips before they were finished. Ciri tugged at the hem of his cloak under his brooch, pulling him hard towards herself, happy to see his surprised dilated pupils.

Words were no need at this moment.

The kiss mingled with the strong aroma of cherry wine but was full of spicy gunpowder and she was angry. She bit down hard on his lower lip with her teeth. His blood was slowly seeping out, and she slowly licked it away with her tongue again. She wrapped her arms around his neck to continue the new round of 'attacking' him. But this time it didn't last long, and he pushed her away, staring at her seriously.

"Why? It's not the first time, I need you," her big innocent eyes blinked. Her tongue licked over the canine teeth and her smile was full of provocation, like a fierce lion looking at its prey.

Everyone only thought she was a free swallow, but forgot that she had also been Cintra's lion cub. The cub had grown enough to impress the world. The old fox had already long fallen deep into the trap she had laid.

She held onto his should to get closer to his ear and spoke slowly: “I want you.” Tracing her fingers across his belly, exploring, reaching toward the forbidden land. “Aren’t you ready for this?” She clutched onto his cock maliciously, yet her lips kissed the long, pointed curve of his ear gently.

It was as if something had snapped.

His cloak had been laid down to cover the cold ground. They hugged tightly, trying to force the other to meld into themselves. They remained silent, touching every inch of skin they could. She was licking and kissing her way up his tattooed chest, sitting in his lap. Their fiery lips never parted again. Their feelings were set on lust, lest any doubt should arise, and nothing was more honest than the body.

She moaned in the moment when he entered her, biting directly into his bare shoulder. His skin around the canine teeth gradually begun spilling blood with his each deepening thrust. Yennefer had told her that she should scream at times like these or it would be harmful to her health, but she just didn't want to lose to him. Her canine teeth were long and sharp, and he couldn't help but hiss. When her tiny breasts heaved before his eyes, he licked them gently with the tip of his tongue, causing her to shudder. She wriggled her body defiantly, teasing the cock inside her.

It seems that there is a little snow floating in the air and a piece of it falls silently on the ground. But they do not feel cold. Moving hot bodies hugged tightly, their foreheads even perspiring faintly.

“Only at a time like this... would we... admit it,” she took a deep breath. “Right?”

"Sorry." He lay on her shoulder.

There's no trick to predicting the future, the key is to be accurate. He had always made only the best choices and only put into action what was already certain. But she had repeatedly broken his principles. He should have taken her to his lab instead of Auberon's bed; he should have tied her up and thrown her into the portal for her disobedience instead of sighing helplessly; he should have turned down her approaches instead of letting feelings grow between them, and he should have stayed at Tir ná Lia and stopped caring about her instead of sleeping with her here, today.

She had always been his irrationality, always making him succumb to his inner, hidden wishes.

"I... Forgive you." Though she had left deep bloody tooth marks on his shoulder.

They trusted each other, tortured each other, hid their feelings from each other, and proudly refused to bow their heads in acknowledgement. Their love, like their lust, carried pain in its sweetness.

They had both sunk in the deep sea, thinking they could never see the sunshine again. Gaining the once lost was too much of a pain for them to bear and they chose to refuse it altogether at the beginning. But neither of them knew that the joy of regaining what they had lost to the sea would wash away all doubts, anguish, and pain.

She collapsed into his arms. Her waist was too sore, feeling not like her own after the extreme pleasure they had just received. She gently scratched at one of his rune tattoos with her fingernails.

"I will only bring you harm."

"So will I."

Hanks of Urialla Harbor was awakened from his slumber. he cursed with very nasty words, grumbling at the distant sound that the Belleteyn revelry was over! He cloaked himself in his coat and stepped out of his cabin, staring dumbfounded at the hilltop of that warrior's path. Some strings of green flashes were rushing into the night sky, sketching a portrait on the black curtain of fluttering snow, what was it?

Yes! It's the swallow which symbolized the revival of the ground and the come of the spring.

They inevitably ended up with a heavy cold. They just as casually found a dilapidated no-man's hut as they had on the run, sitting around the fire, drinking hot tea and looking after each other. Despite constant snot, cracking headaches, breathlessness, and bodies badly complaining of their atrocities, they snuggled up and were never so bright inside. Time was still long, they could take their time.

They regained their own **_**driftwood**_**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belleteyn is the festival mentioned in the original novel "The Witcher", the European traditional folk festival, sometimes known as "May Day", "May Night" or "Blossoming", takes place on the night of May Eve, the night of April 30 into May 1.  
> It is a fertility festival beginning at dusk on the 30th and continuing until the dawn of the 1st. It is also a traditional time to begin (or end) relationships of a physical nature. Food, drink and love are the order of the evening making this celebration a time of many marriages. Bonfires abound, and revellers are encouraged to jump the flames for luck and their own fertility.Humans are to celebrate the agricultural harvest and the arrival of spring. The sixth book of The Witcher, The Tower of the Swallow, mentions that the night before Saovine is the last day of the year for elves, and that elves have a tradition of lighting torches around the house on the eve of Saovine and keeping one of them until the day of the Belleteyn, and then lighting a bonfire with this torch, which will keep them healthy and safe from evil spirits.  
> Saovine is a holiday of the elven calendar celebrated at the end of October and beginning of November by both humans as well as elves. It marks the beginning of the new year, and the first savaed, with which it shares the name.It’s also called Halloween now.  
> More information could be found on https://witcher.fandom.com/wiki/.


	2. 浮木

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 他们都曾在伸手不见五指的深海中沉沦，以为再也无法看到阳光。得到又失去太过痛苦，他们无法承受，于是就在一开始就选择拒绝。但他们都不知道失而复得的喜悦会冲走一切疑虑、彷徨、痛苦。

今天是五月节。

阿瓦拉克冷漠地看着这热闹非凡的宴会，宾客们觥筹交错间不时互相恭维几句。他安静地坐在自己的位子上，显得有点格格不入。宫殿中心高台上的篝火熊熊燃烧着，四周柱子上的圣火炬在去年的万圣节被取下。今天，它们被精灵祭祀用来点燃新的火源，保佑着精灵族群的身体安康。

他举杯向前来问候的熟悉面孔们致意，却懒得回应诸如【只做一名学者对您来说是否太过浪费】、【年幼的新王似乎还少个皇家顾问】、【如今的局势还是不够稳定】之类的暗示。他也并非厌倦政坛，只是在提尔纳利亚的宫殿里，那无处不在的矮小奴仆总让他心情复杂，他们藏在发后的圆小耳轮总能激起他波澜不惊的内心里一丝浅浅的涟漪。

“贤者大人，您尝尝这个吧。”面前的银碗中被盛入月季状的奶冻，这曾是他最喜欢品尝的甜点之一。

他看向身边的女伴，映入眼帘的是一双祖母绿色的大眼睛，银灰色的长发被高高盘起并以一个翡翠发髻固定住，薄如蝉翼的蚕丝裙勾勒出曼妙的身体曲线，这未免太过刻意。他转头看向正忙着碰杯的盖尔，后者在注意到他的目光后立马向他举杯微笑。如今的摄政王承诺过在宴会结束后会赠予一份与他现在研究内容紧密相连的资料，所以他还必须得呆在这冗长的宴会中。

“要不您尝尝这个？”身边的女精灵似乎还在孜孜不倦。

他沉默地看着桌子，并不想搭理她。可女精灵却还在不停地找话题，叽叽喳喳的非常恼人。可能她一个人说着没有回应的笑话也有点累了，宴会的最后阶段他终于得了一些清净，也因此听到了她很轻的一句抱怨【……明明说了喜欢活泼的】。

宴会结束，当阿瓦拉克匆匆翻阅了那份资料后，他无奈地叹了口气。不过也好，至少以后他无须再参与这种宫廷宴会了，他得另找个地方隐居。大脑飞速运转起来：最佳地点、实验器材、大量书籍、他睡不惯其他床……边想边离开了这里。

他回头看了眼宫殿，白色大理石、马赛克瓷砖、喷泉、雕塑。

他的提尔纳丽亚。

回到家中，床上赤条条的身影只让他更加坚定离开这里的决定。他在心里感慨如今的盖尔，明明当上了摄政王，洞悉人心的能力却退步不少。看来他在宴会上对女精灵的无视并没有让这位实质最高统治者明白适可而止。

他确实有意离开，而且这个想法盘旋在他脑中已有段时日。他知道自己身边有各方势力的眼线，他以前的亲信三番五次前来拜访，明里暗里都是鼓动他再次出山。盖尔甚至许诺他数之不尽的金钱、崇高的地位和那些长相类似的床伴。可他始终无动于衷。

偌大的提尔纳丽亚，谣言四起。大家都说，精灵贤者阿瓦拉克在帮助上古血脉后裔时，想起了曾经的恋人劳拉公主。越睹物思人，就越陷入悲痛的泥沼中。他如今，也像先王奥伯伦一样无意政事，只顾沉浸在自己的哀伤中。

他在难过吗？是啊，自那天起，他似乎再也没有快乐过。

有一双手抚上了他的脸庞。柔软、干净、白皙，她的手从不会是这样的。回忆里的她，好像一直都是灰扑扑的身影：衣服上总沾着四溅的泥巴印；脸上总流着汗水和血液；手上总有着挥剑留下的老茧。但当她紧握住他手时，他总能感到一股莫名的支持。

“我和她们都不一样。你知道的，贤者大人。”

月光下的玉体，就像宫殿里的雕塑一样完美无瑕。她的身体也从不会是这样的，她有好多伤疤，大大小小一共十四个。她也没有肤如凝脂的娇嫩肌肤，她总是被太阳晒得红彤彤的。但当他抚摸她时，那年轻而充满活力的肉体让他内心兴奋到不停尖叫！

“大家都不懂，但盖尔大人明白。让您一直心神不宁的早就不是以前的公主了，是那个曾经来过这里的……”

她并没有说完，因为他的眼神越来越冰冷，像有无数把刺骨的刀刃突然捅进了胸口。

他转身离开，却被女精灵从后一把抱住，“我没完成任务，没法离开。盖尔大人说您喜欢的我都有，如果您一定要脸上有疤的，我也可……”

她突然被狠狠甩在地上。他虽然还是冷漠地背对她，可她察觉到他满腔的怒火，比笑面虎的盖尔大人更骇人，于是她知趣地离开了。

他将资料随意扔在书桌上，坐在特地定做的黄檀木椅上，一挥手就将屋内的光源全灭了。他就这样坐在黑暗中。

今天是五月节，他分外想念她。

他还记得他在艾恩希迪精灵世界的最后一天，他站在很远的地方看着她。她在白果园挥舞着杰洛特送的“吉薇艾尔”剑，她的父母在一旁称赞。那个像鹦鹉的聒噪人类拨弄着精灵的鲁特琴，那个矮人在一旁喝酒打拍子。

就到这吧。

他最后深深地看了她一眼，然后头也不回地走进了传送门。他预测过他们的未来，这就是他们最好的结局。他们最后只需要保持一个简单的师生关系，一切都尘埃落定。

他们去了他的实验室，他很清楚他们都知道了些什么。他故作镇定地扯着一些理由，甚至搬出要保护所有带有劳拉血脉的后裔，可这后裔到今天为止也只有她一个。他们站在塔里，她要求他引发天球交汇，打开那该死的世界之门。她的伤心、愤怒、羞耻、不服，他都看在眼里，但他不想解释。恨他吧，这样更好。

她值得拥有更好的生活，更好的……伴侣。在他曾经强迫她做了那些事情后，他已经彻底失去了资格。她很快就会忘记他，毕竟他也曾伤害过她，她的那些噩梦都应该被摈弃。

他刚回提尔纳丽亚那几年也曾偶尔发泄一下欲望，可他渐渐发现自己力不从心，甚至在亲密时会想起她那天的模样。

他一直都是冷静的、理智的、克制的，可他遇到了劳拉。他全心全意爱着的劳拉，却为了一个卑微的人类离开了他。他陷入无尽的愤怒与痛苦中，开始拼命寻找任何能让他保留劳拉回忆的载体。他曾以为他在她身上找到太多劳拉的影子，所以他被那些迷惑了。可现在他的劳拉只是一个模糊的幻影，他试图描绘的劳拉全是她，她唤他阿瓦拉克的声音一直在脑海里响起，覆盖了劳拉的克利凡。

她最终还是夺去了他心中关于劳拉的回忆。

他想起在一个高度文明世界的凌晨，他从外考察回家，他以为她已经睡了。所以当他在远处看到整栋大楼唯一还亮着的窗户时，他有点惊讶，但心里有股莫名的暖意——有人等着他。他一个人在黑暗中太久太久，久到他已经习惯于周围人理所当然的冷漠，他自己也是其中之一。可她说她把他当朋友，为了他她也会去解决白霜的，她总对他毫无保留地信任。

那天他坐在沙发前看了她很久，她蜷缩着睡在那里。桌上摆着已经冷掉的晚餐，看着像是煮过头了。茶几的花瓶里插着一束鲜花，估计是她打工回来时顺便买的。她好像难得整理了屋子，虽然在他眼里有太多需要再整改的。但那些小小的杂乱好像更平添了些许烟火气，这里是他能喘口气的地方。她好像又在做噩梦，身体抖得厉害。他坐到她身边，左手紧紧包裹住她紧握成拳的双手，右手的两根手指搭着她的额头念念有词，随后轻轻抚摸着她的头发。她的呼吸慢慢平缓了下来，他将她抱回了房间。

她一夜安眠。

可他却一夜清醒。他发现他一直刻意无视的这份感情已经不觉间成长到他也无法控制的地步，是不是还要再加上几道枷锁？可他内心深处却叫嚣着、渴望着她的陪伴。

他最终还是失去了这陪伴，依然孤独一人，像是溺水的人失去了浮木永久地沉没在了黑暗的大海中。他得到过却又主动放弃，这大概就是他逼迫她的报应。

他起身去拿桌上的高脚杯，无意中碰到了什么，原来是他亲手制作、花费近十年只为与劳拉的鬼魂交流的魔法灯。这件魔法道具辗转几年居然又回到了他的手里。前不久他拿着它前往他最后一次见到劳拉的地方，他本想将它掩埋在这片土地，结果绿色的魂体居然转身平静地看着他。他们四目相对，他一时间不知道该说些什么。劳拉面色沉静，不似当时离去时的决绝。

—— _放过自己吧。珍惜眼前_ 。

她只留下这一句话便彻底化作一颗颗绿色的光点飘向空中，就像夏日池边漫天的萤火虫。在第5109天，魔法灯终于完成了它的使命。它被他带回静静搁在书桌上，作为一个纪念品。

他的大脑里突然有一丝电流滑过，这么晚了，她去那里？

是的，他一直能感应到她穿越时的时空波动，而随着时间的流逝，波动的长短居然已不再是关键元素——只要她动用能力，他就能感应到，他不想承认这是因为他对她的思念已经快变成执念。

在他发动的那次天球交汇后，提尔纳丽亚的时间维度神奇地与艾恩希迪精灵世界保持了高度的一致，也就是说他们过着同样的一天，只是在不同的世界。

他开始担心起来，她最近几年非常喜欢去那里。可在春季的山顶上，吹风就会感冒，而她很有可能喝了酒，更有可能在那睡一个晚上。

毕竟今天是五月节。

他很快找到了那袭保存完好的兜帽斗篷，胸针上的宝石都还玲珑剔透，闪着幽蓝的暗光。他犹豫了片刻将它披在身上。

他走进了传送门。

英格瓦之牙

希里靠着石头坐着。她刚从一场狂欢中离开，美酒、昆特、打拳、唱歌、跳舞、篝火、烟花还有人类作为哺乳动物的兽欲都是五月节永恒的主题。她本想和一名看着挺老实的男人谈谈人生，结果对方礼貌地告辞随后落荒而逃，大概是烟花绽放下她脸上那道长长的伤疤吓到他了吧。想到这，她不禁笑了笑。她还真不愧是杰洛特的女儿，就连这点都这么相似。

冷风吹来，她不禁打了个哆嗦。毕竟是山顶，这大晚上的还是有点冷得吃不消，可她却莫名喜欢这种感觉。这条重视名誉的群岛人民认定的战士之路，一路的攀爬、跳跃，还要提防人面妖鸟的偷袭，确实名副其实。但比起凯尔莫罕的杀人径，还是有点小巫见大巫，她轻轻松松就能挑战成功，虽然今天她懒得折腾是穿越到这里的。她喜欢这里，特别是不开心的时候，整理好心情后她还可以就着旁边那根小道一路滑行到底，风驰电掣的速度让她特别激动。

她抱紧自己，将头抵在膝盖上。眼前黑压压的一片，很难让人想象旭日照射下大雪覆盖群山的胜景。

寒冷、寂静、白雪，她总在这种时候想起他。

她曾经想过解决白霜后如何面对他：狠狠揍他一顿、揪揪他的小辫子、将他绑起来或者来局昆特。但他的不告而别粉碎了这一切，就像被一盆冷水从头浇到底，浇散了她好不容易承认的感情，也浇灭了她冉冉升起的一点点希望。

她的父母都说这是最好的结局，杰洛特甚至对他的恩断义绝颇为赞赏，希望这辈子都别和他再搭上任何关系。她勉强扯出一个比哭还难看的笑容点头赞同，可到了晚上在母亲的怀里却因为她的一句“忘了吧，不值得。”任由自己泪流满面。

她知道他在哪，她也随时随地可以去找他，可她就是不去！她憋着一股气在心里，和自己较着劲。

于是她决定将他抛之脑后，开始和不同的人约会：单纯正直的、沉默寡言的、博学多才的、温柔体贴的、勇敢浪漫的……她熟练地和他们调情，享受着他们的赞美，却永远少了一份心里的悸动。特别是夜半醒来时，她难以忍受身边居然有一个“陌生人”，她无法对他们敞开心怀。杰洛特曾说过他将来肯定会向她索取一些回报，希里觉得不用等以后，现在这回报就有点沉重了，她还得花几年才能将他彻底踢出自己的领域？

山顶只有两三个火把照明，衬得夜空中的星星更加明亮。无论今天是什么节日，这里永远这么安静。也只有在这里，她才能真正放松下来。她混迹在人群中和他们一起载歌载舞，可那些热火朝天并不属于她。她这一路上的旅程，不缺同伴。来了又去，她依然孑然一身。

她永远都只是个过客。

她突然想到她前两天做的梦，梦里她被那个女精灵羞辱，那副样子让她非常不满！原来她都快哭了吗？怎么这么不争气？当时就该上去给那女精灵一拳！然后她也清晰地看到那女精灵本来姣好的容颜被嫉妒恼怒的嘴脸扭曲得相当丑恶。她在吃醋，再明显不过的事情，为何她当时却没看出来呢？

她做过好几个类似的梦，她总是俯视着，好像一个置身事外的旁观者。她记得有一个梦是黄昏，他们一起坐在一块巨石上。她在整理头发，夕阳把他们的影子拉得特别长。他好像扭头和她说了些什么，连带着本就依偎着的影子像是情人在亲密耳语，再靠近一点点可能他们的唇就碰在一起了。起风了，她蹲下去捡被吹落在地上的发带，银灰色的长发在风中飞舞。他在她身后忍不住伸出手去触碰，只差一点就能抚到，他却缩回了手。他们一直都自欺欺人地保持着自以为是的安全距离，原来在旁人看来那么可笑。她醒来时有点惆怅，她觉得那场景很美，可惜她再也没梦到过了。

她还是一直做着噩梦，有时必须要用酒精来麻痹自己。她颠簸的小前半人生太过坎坷，无论是她爱的或是她恨的，最终都会离她而去，因为她就是死神。她在龙潭虎穴中挣扎时无人能拯救她；她深陷在自我厌恶中时无人能开导她，她觉得自己就像是船难时被救援船抛弃的那一个，孤独地漂浮在海面上眼睁睁看着自己的堕落。她害怕，晚上睡觉必须要有光源；对任何人都无法信任；她的利剑从不离身；她冷静地杀人如麻。

她曾以为她会在深渊里一直下坠，直到她遇到了她的浮木。他害过她，可他又全心全意保护她。她知道他只对自己的能力感兴趣，可她还是不可自拔地紧紧抓着他。他魔力强大、通古晓今、无所不能，呆在他身边她从未感到如此安心。她甚至可以在黑暗中入眠却不被噩梦侵扰，只要他陪着。情愫的增长是那么顺其自然，她既害怕被他发现却又渴望他知道，无数次告诉自己快点放弃却又舍不得，只能越陷越深。

感情本就无法隐藏，压抑得越厉害，爆发起来就越强烈，直到有一天冲破那道防线。

今天是五月节，和那天一样。

砰！一束烟花像彗星的尾巴飞速上升，在黑色的夜空中炸出姹紫嫣红的绚烂，短暂而美丽。

又一声砰，但这回伴随的是一道绿色的闪影，希里左手拿着酒瓶，右手端着一盘烤物满载而归，阿瓦拉克微微皱起了眉头。

“我这又不是偷的，是正大光明拿的，”她将手里的东西朝地上一扔，“这是场派对，所有在场的人都能随便吃喝玩乐，我们只不过离派对中心远了点。”

长期的逃亡生活让他们疲惫不堪。在一踏入这个世界正准备严阵以待却听到欢声笑语时，他们终于允许自己放松片刻，只是和正在庆祝的当地人依然保持了足够的距离。

“今天是五月节。”巨大的篝火、跳舞的人群、春天的气息、缠有花朵和藤蔓的树枝无一不显示。

“是吗，”希里用犬齿撬开了瓶盖，将酒瓶递给了她的导师，“那正好，对于你和我来说，这都是个值得庆祝的好日子！来！干杯！”

希里仰头灌了自己好几口，大呼一声这酒带劲，便坐到导师身旁开始享用大餐。而她挑剔的导师则无视了面前有点焦黑的食物，在希里的逼迫下勉强小酌了几口烈酒。

砰！又一束烟花在空中爆炸，如同流星雨般散落下来。

不管在哪，烟花倒总是不缺席的，不管它以何种形式出现。

他们就这样安静地坐着。盘子里的食物都被一扫而空，满满的酒瓶也见了底，但烟花还没有中断过，甚至有愈演愈烈的趋势。但奇怪的是她倒并没有闻到很强烈的火药味，相反她一直被一股熟悉的清冽、幽香略带微苦的味道环绕着。

她用力吸了吸鼻子，发现这原来是从身边的导师身上发出的，精灵还是蛮懂香水的。他都好久没用忍冬和檀木味的香水了，毕竟生死逃亡中哪还有功夫去关注外在呢？这香味真不错，她靠近了他，像只狮子追寻猎物一般嗅着他的香味。她知道现在这行为有点变态狂的调调，但管他呢，是他对她有所求，他就理应配合她的所有癖好。

杰洛特也特别迷恋叶奈法的丁香与醋栗味，她忽然有点理解了。

她再一次靠近了他，鼻尖几乎要贴上他的脸颊，用力吸了一口，笑得好开心，“你真香。”

“你醉了。”他平静地看着微醺的她。她看到他海蓝宝石般神秘深邃的眼睛，它们不像奥伯伦那样澄澈忧郁，也不像艾瑞汀那样野心勃勃，它们就像静谧的蓝湖水波不兴，却总是无可救药地吸引着她。

砰！又一串烟花的爆炸声传来。

他们就这样看着彼此，空气中满是酒精与情欲的味道，气氛有点暧昧。可能是烟花下的容颜比往常更动人，可能是忍冬与檀木的香味太过清雅，也可能是附近开始传来不同的呻吟声——任何庆祝最后都会演变成另一场本质的狂欢。她慢慢吻上他的唇，小心翼翼又带着试探，轻缓又柔和，不敢探入只停留在表面辗转。她双手紧紧捏着他的衣角，几乎可以听到自己的心跳声。

她结束了这个没有回应的吻，睁开了眼睛。他面色比往常更加沉重，抿紧了唇像是在忍耐着什么。他欲言又止，紧紧盯着她。

生气了？这种眼神，她曾经见到过。

她自嘲地笑了笑，低下了头，准备退回到自己原来的位置。

但她没能移动。

他只用一根手指便挑起了她的下巴，接着便贪婪地攫取她的每一寸气息。这吻太过激烈，唤醒了彼此心中被封印太久的野兽，它正在大杀四方。

可这不够，远远不够，想要更多，想让对方完全属于自己。

于是，衣物散落在身旁。

他很快安抚了她以往糟糕的性经历伴随而来的恐惧，他的温柔包围着她。原来性是美好的、是愉悦的。他们尽情地感受着彼此的温度，探寻着最深处的秘密，释放着最原始的欲望。每一个亲吻、每一次爱抚、每一下撞击都带着无限的怜惜。十指紧扣、耳旁低语、旖旎缱绻

都让他们感到前所未有的甜蜜。

砰！最大的一束烟花在空中爆炸，刹那间照亮了几乎整个森林。

他们不是正在亡命天涯的精灵贤者和时空之女，他们只不过是这座森林里狂欢的无数交缠身影中的其中一对。在五月节，他们可以暂时放下所有的包袱，放纵这么一回。

第二天，他们非常默契地对昨晚发生的意外避而不谈。他们将这归结成酒精的催动和气氛的渲染所导致的一场生理需求迫切需要得到满足的宣泄，却将意乱情迷抵死缠绵时耳边的那一声声呼唤当成秘密锁进了最心底的房间，甚至在房门上加了把厚重的铜锁。一旦有人拿着钥匙走向这扇门，便如临大敌恨不得再赶紧临时加上许多个安全防护措施。可区区一间小房间怎么关得住这不讲道理的羁绊呢？当有一天它自己破门而出时，整颗心都被填满，根本无处可逃。

她好像又听到“砰！”的一声，不能再呆在这里了，酒后的大脑已经开始放空，甚至都产生幻听了。不对，她好像看到一个熟悉的瘦削身影，这里太暗了，她晃晃荡荡地走上前去。

头发？嗯，小辫子还在。脸颊肉好像更少了，胶原蛋白流失地真惨烈，她都快记不起在提尔纳利亚时他的样子，金发蓝眼的年轻模样随着诅咒解除一去不复返了。手顺着胸膛往下移，身上还是没几两肉，轻而易举地圈住他腰，好瘦！脸冷不丁蹭到一个冰凉的挂物，定睛一看原来是海蓝色宝石胸针，她用指腹一遍遍摩挲着它。

“嘿！还挺真！”不知是醉后产生的幻觉还是已经在做梦了，但这触感太真实，这带着微苦的清香味太熟悉，这身躯挡风正好，这一切都让她无比坦然。她满足地东拉西扯抚摸揉捏，快活极了。

阿瓦拉克很快从震惊中冷静下来，她身上果然一股酒味。光球照耀下的脸蛋上洋溢着明晃晃的笑容，她的齐肩发飘荡在风中。她是自由的燕子，猎魔人长期的战斗让她更加修长挺拔，露出的小腹肌肉线条分明。她晒黑了，下巴好像也尖了点，伤疤似乎有了增生，看来她果然没有涂抹他特地留下的药膏。他看到她翡翠色大眼睛内倒映的自己，有种想拥她入怀的冲动，但很快这冲动转移了阵地，她的手已经不客气地越来越下，此刻正隔着丝质的衣料滑过他的大腿根部。

“吉薇艾……”话没说完便被迎面而来的唇堵住。希里扯着他胸针下的斗篷下摆，将他用力拉向自己，愉快地看到他惊讶放大的瞳孔，此时此刻并不需要言语交流。

这个吻，混杂着浓浓的樱桃酒香气却充满了辛辣的火药味，她很生气。她用牙齿狠狠咬住他的下唇，血液慢慢渗出，她又用舌头慢慢舔去，搂住他的脖子继续新一轮攻城略地。但这次并没有持续很久，他将她推开，严肃地紧盯着她。

“干嘛？又不是第一次，我需要你，”她无辜的大眼睛眨啊眨，舌头舔过犬齿，笑容里满是挑衅，像头看着猎物的猛狮。人人只道她是只自由的燕子，却忘了她也曾是辛特拉的幼狮，幼狮在磨练中已成长得让人刮目相看，他这只老狐狸早已深陷她布好的陷阱。她扶着他的肩膀靠近他耳边，缓缓地说着：“我 想 要 你，而且，”她的手指划过他的小腹，向禁地探索着，“你不是都准备好了？”她用手恶意套弄着，嘴唇却细吻着他长而尖的耳轮。

好像有什么东西断了的声音。

斗篷盖在冰冷的地上，身上的衣服太过多余。他们用力地抱紧对方，想让彼此融化在自己的身体里。他们保持沉默，抚触能碰到的每一寸皮肤。她顺着刺青一路舔吻上去，跨坐在他腿上，炽热的双唇再也没有分开过，他们将沉重的感情寄托在爱欲上，唯恐有任何怀疑产生，没有什么是比身体更诚实的。他进入的那刻，她忍不住呜咽，直接咬上他裸露的肩膀，犬齿周围的皮肤随着每次刺探的加深渐渐溢出血液。她母亲曾和她说过这种时候就应该叫出来，不然有害健康，可她就是不想输给他。她的犬齿尖长又锋利，他不禁“嘶”了一声，她小巧的双乳在他眼前起伏，他用舌尖轻轻舔舐，引起她一阵颤栗，她不服气地扭动身体，挑逗着体内的分身。

空中好像飘起了小雪，一片片无声地落在地上，扬在他们身上，可他们不觉得寒冷。滚烫的身体紧紧拥抱着，他们的额头甚至微微见汗。

“只有这种……时候才……愿意承认，”她深吸了一口气，“对……不对？”

“抱歉。”他伏在她的肩头。

预测未来没什么诀窍，诀窍就是要预测得准。他一向只做最优选择，只付诸于有把握的行动，可她却一再地打破他的准则。他应该把她带到他的实验室而不是奥伯伦的床上、他应该将不听教诲的她绑起来扔到传送门里、他应该拒绝她的靠近而不是放任感情的滋长、他应该呆在提尔纳丽亚不再关心她而不是在这里和她翻云覆雨。

她总是他的不理智，总让他屈服于内心的选择。

“我……原谅你了。”虽然在他肩上留下深深的血牙印。

他们互相信任、互相折磨、互相隐藏自己的感情、互相骄傲地不肯低头承认。他们的爱，就像是他们的情欲，甜蜜中带着疼痛。他们都曾在伸手不见五指的深海中沉沦，以为再也无法看到阳光。得到又失去太过痛苦，他们无法承受，于是就在一开始就选择拒绝。但他们都不知道失而复得的喜悦会冲走一切疑虑、彷徨、痛苦。

她倒在他的怀里，腰酸得不像是自己的，他们刚刚得到了极致的快乐，她用指甲轻轻划着他的符文刺青。

“我会给你带来伤害。”

“彼此彼此。”

由里亚拉港的汉克斯从睡梦中惊醒，他用很下流的话咒骂了一声，抱怨着这远处的声响，五月节狂欢已经结束了！他披上大衣走出他的木屋，目瞪口呆地看着那条战士之路的山顶，一串串绿色的闪光冲向夜空，在飘着雪花的黑色幕布上勾勒出一幅画像，是什么呢？

对！是燕子，象征春天来临大地复苏的燕子。

他们最后不可避免地重感冒了，就像逃亡时那样随便找了间破旧的无人小屋，围坐在火堆前喝着热茶，照顾着彼此。尽管鼻涕不断、头痛欲裂、呼吸不畅，身体严重控诉着他们的暴行，但他们依偎着，内心从未如此明亮。时间还长，他们可以慢慢来。

他们找回了自己的 _ **浮木**_ 。

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 五月节是《猎魔人》原著小说提到的节日，欧洲传统民间节日，五月的前一天即四月三十日，现一般称为五朔节，人类是为庆祝农业收获及春天的来临。《猎魔人》第六卷《雨燕之塔》中提及万圣节前夜对精灵来说是一年的最后一晚，精灵有个传统就是在万圣节前夜点燃屋子周围的火把，并将其中一支保存起来，等到五月节这天，再用这支火把点燃篝火，这样能保佑他们身体健康，不受邪灵侵扰。  
> 原著提过提尔纳丽亚和猎魔人世界时间维度不一致，所以我强行来了个剧情需要。  
> 虽然意义不一致，但是五月节是人类与精灵共同庆祝的节日，这让我不得不脑补，而狼叶在五月节的重逢也带给我很多灵感，五月节或者说所有庆祝的节日狂欢本质上就是一个大型SEX PARTY，真的适合开车啊！希里的生日在五月节前后，但本文并没有涉及，因为我觉得她自己可能都忘记了。


End file.
